


only for the broken-hearted

by spektri



Category: Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Implied Jean/Warren, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spektri/pseuds/spektri
Summary: Bobby is stuck watching from the sidelines.---Warren sighs. “It’s just a school-boy crush, Bobby. It’s a memory of a wish of a past. It’s nothing.”“Right.” But nothing’s ever nothing when it’s Jean, or when it’s Warren, either. Or when it’s any one of them, including Bobby, insisting on talking about something he doesn’t want to be talking about.“You know what that’s like,” Warren says, a little sharper, meaner, or maybe that’s just how Bobby imagines it because yes, he does know, thanks for noticing. Dreams of fluttering wings in the darkness. Sneaking glances in the Danger Room. Every single day fearing, and hoping, in equal amounts, of discovery.
Relationships: Bobby Drake/Warren Worthington III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	only for the broken-hearted

**Author's Note:**

> me: "i should finally write something nice for the bobbywarren tag"  
> also me: writes this, instead 
> 
> it's set somewhere around the early x-factor comics. may make no sense timeline-wise, but when's that ever stopped any marvel writer before

“She loves you,” Bobby says, looking over at Warren looking over at Jean, standing outside, bright red hair whipping in the wind like a flame, the very picture of everything desirable and admirable. It’s not gone unnoticed, even by Bobby, that something has been going on with Warren and Jean and Scott. And he doesn’t want to think about it, to be any part of it, but like a moth to Jean’s hair he can’t stay away.

Warren looks at him over his shoulder, behind his wing, half of his face obscured by it so Bobby can’t quite make out what his expression is like. But his voice is flat: “No, she loves Scott.” 

Bobby can’t argue with that. Jean has always loved Scott. Scott has always loved Jean. It’s Jean and Scott: a constant, one that Bobby couldn’t help thinking got disturbed, undeservedly, when Warren somehow got inserted into the equation. But, also: hadn’t he always been part of it? From the very beginning, he’d been there. And Jean had seen him. And because Warren is Warren, Bobby always wondered if maybe they’d got it wrong somewhere along the way. 

“She _loves_ you,” he tries again. He’s insistent, and not sure why. 

“She loves me like she loves you,” Warren says, behind tense shoulders, between thin lips, in obvious annoyance. 

“You wish,” Bobby says, “she loves nobody like she loves me. I’m her favourite. Obviously.” He makes a vague gesture that’s supposed to sweep over his physique and show Warren that _just look at all this, how could she not?_ but probably ends up looking more like a chicken trying to fly — it’s fine. 

Somewhere, sometime, Warren might have been amused by it, but not now. He sighs and turns his head again, assumably to look at Jean out there, walking the grounds now. Bobby can’t help feeling some relief over the fact that she can’t do telepathy anymore, and, he imagines, neither can Warren. 

“What’s your point, Bobby?” Warren asks in that way that suggests _because you usually don’t have one_ and _you’re bothering me_ and _go away_ , all of which Bobby is used to and all of which he easily ignores. 

“Just…” He makes a half-shrug, one shoulder, looks more like a spasm. “You love her.” Like he’s a caveman who knows only one word, pointing at every other person, saying love in between: grunt, point at Warren, “love,” point at Jean, grunt, “love,” point at Scott, grunt. (Point at himself, point at Warren.) 

Warren sighs. “It’s just a school-boy crush, Bobby. It’s a memory of a wish of a past. It’s nothing.” 

“Right.” But nothing’s ever nothing when it’s Jean, or when it’s Warren, either. Or when it’s any one of them, including Bobby, insisting on talking about something he doesn’t want to be talking about.

“You know what that’s like,” Warren says, a little sharper, meaner, or maybe that’s just how Bobby imagines it because _yes_ , he does know, _thanks for noticing._ Dreams of fluttering wings in the darkness. Sneaking glances in the Danger Room. Every single day fearing, and hoping, in equal amounts, of discovery. 

So maybe Bobby’s expression darkens and his posture changes and maybe he crosses his arms. Annoyed at the way Warren said it and annoyed, even more, that he said it without getting it and without bringing it up and confronting Bobby over it, because _he_ doesn’t have the courage. And then, of course, relieved of nothing of the sort happening.

He feels like a searchlight going off, shouting _discover me, discover me, discover me_ and then turning off the very moment somebody looks at him. Because being seen is just as scary as never being found.

Warren’s not going to see, and Bobby’s not going to show, and Bobby is not going to be the kind of compassionate Warren possibly needs right now because he just can’t. He’ll throw a fit if he’s not allowed to be the best man at their wedding, and he’ll claim he always knew they were meant to be together, if something comes out of it — but he can’t be there helping to make it happen.

And isn’t that just about the most selfish thing he’s ever done. Because he could go to Jean right now, be the little messenger of Cupid between their hang-ups, make it easy for them, show that hey: _I’m in your corner._ He could tell Warren that he’s the millionaire CEO of his company and that he’s powerful and beautiful and everyone should be so lucky to be on the receiving end of his affections. He could go to Jean and say, it doesn’t have to be the way you’ve always imagined it — you’re allowed to chase happiness in places you weren’t “supposed” to find it.

He could, but he won’t, because all of those things that he thinks he could say to them he also could say to himself, and the part of him that wants to do that is bigger than the part that wants to say it to Jean and Warren, and then, finally, the part that doesn’t want to take a chance is the biggest of all.

So he’ll look at Warren’s profile, his soft longing eyes tracing Jean in the courtyard, he’ll remember that look and wish at night that it was directed to him, and he’ll deal with knowing that it won’t ever come to pass. And he’ll be smiling whatever happens or doesn’t happen with Jean and Warren, or Jean and Scott, or Warren and Candy: and he’ll be smiling knowing that nothing will ever happen with Bobby, because he’s not a part of it, he’s not even a part of the considerations.

And that’s just how it’s going to be.

**Author's Note:**

> and then they kissed and lived happily ever after. the end


End file.
